It's Still Life

Winter at Fjellebroen Havn

It clings.
The ice is thick
on the masts, thick
in ropey skeins, and
the riggings whine
with the singing wind.
Straight out of the north.
It’s come.
It’s lost.
Diamond hard.
It bites.
Feels white as bone,
this snow howling across
our backs. The air
is a carnival swirl.
And here we stand,
clinging to the dock,
waiting for this treble-
toned world to thaw.

For Miz Quickly’s “Off Season” prompt, and Misky’s Twiglet #87 prompt